BENAVISTA
We heard the Madridistas in the flat
Above, who’d taught their boy to shriek with fear
When dancing devil Lionel Messi spat
Defenders from his footsteps. As he neared
The Real goal a fevered horror filled the air
Of Benavista (a place that rarely sparked
To life) and dozing discreet pilgrims shared
A shiver in the Andalusian dark.
We spotted cucarachas on our floor
On the third day. Our host’s indifferent smile
Made clear that to be shocked, or expect more
Was naïve, at best, at worst, dear guests, puerile.
The morning that we left we spotted ten
Dead demons on our floor – never again.
TAIZE
At twenty-two, I thought to find no peace
Among the Christians in the summer dust,
A muttering stranger who’d felt wonder cease
And spread that doctrine – mischief and distrust.
But even in one week, the silence took
A little, led me back from where I came,
Though then, I’d no foundations to be shook
And scarce residual apostatic shame.
I heard no God return, but think I saw
the ecumenical in truest shape,
and spoke my own still small voice, quietly sure
that I was safe in refuge and escape.
The final night, I knelt at last to share
A fellowship of hope, a common prayer.
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